Draco Dormiens
by Madam Death
Summary: This being was the reason they fled, he was the reason the forest was born and he was the sleeping dragon they feared so much. He was the Lord of the Dark Forest, Practitioner of Forbidden Art, and Master of Death, Harry James Potter and he was about to be woken up.
1. Chapter 1

An immense forest covers the island the was once the nation of Great Britain. The country had fallen long ago, all its citizen fled. The darkest part of the woods rests to the north. There in eternal dusk lives the impossible, the most benign being ordinary animals grown to unordinary sizes, scavenger birds larger than houses, spiders bigger than an elephant, and snakes enormous enough to swallow a whale whole.

However, the truly terrifying part were the monsters, horrible creatures born from the unnatural melding of various species, even mankind. These were the things whimsically mentioned in fairytales and described in hushed whispers in the dark of the night.

And in the epicenter of this devilish forest was a small sea of shadows, a blackened lake still as an unbeating heart and on that rock-strewn shore lay the sprawling ruins of a great castle, once an almost white now a murky grey. Some of the structure remained recognizable or halfway standing, this included the wall baring the ancient engraving the used to be in the center of this grand fortress.

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

Beneath this cautionary words sat a throne, but to call it a throne would be like calling a wolf a dog. This as innately different as was the figure in it, who lay still, lungs unmoving, heart frozen in his chest. The man's hair was long shadowy strands, his skin pale unacquainted with the sun, nails long and overgrown, but if his eyes were open they would have been his most startling feature. Ebony chains covered the man locking him to his seat, for he was the most cruel and terrible monster in the forest. This being was the reason they fled, he was the reason the forest was born and he was the sleeping dragon they feared so much.

He was the Lord of the Dark Forest, Practitioner of Forbidden Art, and Master of Death, Harry James Potter and he was about to be woken up.


	2. Chapter 2

Three young people are traveling at night. The move almost silently, near invisible in the low light. They fear not the danger the lurks in the liquid shadows for they were no mundanes. They were wizards.

The wizarding world remembered their great grandparents' stories of this forbidden forest and what dwelled in it, they remembered the warnings and restrictions, but the young were brave and bold in the face of adversity. It was an adventure and besides it was their destiny, the Sybil told them.

There had been a prophecy and none remembered it was a prophecy that start it all. So when their seer told them to go, they blindly went.

Their leader, Titus Longbottom was strong and brave, his companions loyal and true, but they were mere humans only wizards. What they would face was something much more than that. These three selected by the faiths themselves traveled onward in the eternal night and "luck" would have it nothing killed them. The forest allowed them passage. They were permitted entrance to that enormous clearing at the black heart of the forest as they entered Titus thought of the path lead them here.

When Titus turned three his mother took his to visit his great great great aunt who really wasn't related to him by blood. Apparently his great grandparents once were a part of a very close group of friends, that were almost like siblings. That was day his life changed when he met the avatar of the faiths and heard his prophecy.

His aunt was pale the years had drained her of color, rumor was the only reason had lived as long as she had was that the Lovegood family had dryad or fae blood. Titus believed it. She was otherworldly in her appearance, she sat draped in a plain wool robe with silver-white hair, milky folded skin and opalescent eyes, no longer blue, that shone with inner fire. She had turn her ancient gaze upon him and spoke "I promised him when they no longer could remember a would save him and you shall be the One. Sabrina take him to my granddaughter the Sybil will have something for him."

The aged lady paused looked the young boy dead in the eye and spoke words he could still hear to this day "I love him. He was my friend, my savior but he was the worlds villain, please when you meet him don't blame him, monsters are made not born."

And so Titus met the Sybil and was pronounced to be the Chosen One. In his seventeenth year he would be the one to wake the sleeping dragon and bring about the second wizarding age, but never forgot the words old Loony Lovegood.


	3. Chapter 3

Once there were two children. One child had eyes that used to be more vibrant than any emeralds in the world while another child had eyes that used to be brighter than any rubies in the world. But now, both children were lost, both eyes holding shadows deeper than any night can bring… Though they lived on, they were living no more, both had died before, however for the poor green eyed boy dead had no hold.

Harry Potter died for the first time on Allhallows eve, barely over a year in age. The next time he died was at the hands of his relative from a fever left untreated. He was frequent visitor never could stay. The last time someone had managed to kill him, he left something vital in the land of the dead.

The clearing was quite eerily so, but they had a job to do. The gloom around the trees seemed to deepen and a black mist crept from the bushes brushing at them.

Titus closed his eyes. He drew his shoulders back. He took a slow and steady breath. Then he spoke. There was a tension in the air. A weight. A wait. There was no wind. The world grew stretched and tight. Then chains broke and the world shattered.

The three dare breath as the wait for the being to stir. The dark king was small and pale upon his throne. His feet upon the stone were bare. His face still soft and sleeping. Then he drew a breath and opened up his eyes. The green glowing in the darkness, shining like a predator. Harry Potter stood, and in the circle of his liquid shadow he grinned, baring his teeth, and brought the weight of his desire down full upon the world. And all things shook. And all things knew his will. And all things bent to please him.

An ancient lady sat in her bed, breathing a sigh of relief as she felt the familiar magic wash over her and caress her aged skin. As she laid down for the last time her words whispered through the room "As long as he is free, the rest of the world can burn. This is all I can do for you." And as she slipped away to the realm of the death she could hear a faint "Thank you, my moonbeam. It was plenty."

Harry supposed this was what it felt like to awaken after an eternity of sleep. It was liberating. It felt as if everything had changed. He could feel that the world had aged. He stood on steady legs and stretched feeling wonderful as he glanced at the bloody runes swirling around him like a web. He looked up and toward his surrounds and saw everything was still clouded in the last bits of magical explosion. The air filled with white noise and you could barely make anything out in the fog of residue magic and dust.

He looked elegant, he wasn't old but eternal, not young but something about-him scream never dying. Black shadows had coalesced behind him like large feathered wings, flaring slightly. He waited patiently, as he clenched and unclenched the magic around him, testing it subtly. Then he looked over with deathly green eyes the three naïve wizardlings who had released him.


	4. Chapter 4

They say he had his mother's eyes. They call them green, like springtime fresh leave, like shiny bottle glass, just like his mother's eye. But they're not.

His eyes aren't green, they are priceless emerald gems and that churning, passionate shade the ocean turns during a storm. His eyes were brighter, more vibrate and containing far more than Lilly Potter's eyes even could. They are death and dark magic and fear and power and curse, Avada Kadavra.

Harry had once though he was normal, back when he was too young to know better. He knew he wasn't like his relatives but surely there was other people like him. He had always thought that it was normal – that other people could see what he saw. Eyes were windows to the soul, he had heard someone say, and he knew that that was true. It had been distracting, seeing the truth shining through so clearly. So he rarely met anyone's eyes, if he could help it. Uncomfortable, perhaps, but he had not thought it strange. It more than seeing, he knows somewhere deep down like a forgotten dream, if he wanted play with these foreign souls, could twist him or tear them out.

But then he learned that his Aunt found his gaze unnerving, unnatural. She hated looking straight at his eyes and had eventually forced him to cover them with glasses. Harry hadn't minded – it was easier, calmer, to not have to face the feelings and truths of other people every time he met their eyes. And he got used to it, to living a bit more apart from people – reading only what was on the surface and seeing only what other people saw.

Later, there had been days when he had wondered... had his father been the same?

Had his father also covered his eyes with glasses because there was something far too intimate about meeting the eyes, seeing the souls, of strangers without the protection of a glass wall between them?

Or had he just needed glasses? Was Harry once more the strange one, the freak? There was no-one left to ask... no-one who could tell him if James Potter had the same 'gift' as him.

Hah. A gift. Most times, Harry had hated it. He had hated seeing the dislike, the anger and fear in the eyes of his relatives. He had wilted beneath the feelings pouring from strangers and the uncomfortable feeling of a soul so near to his. Seeing everyone rage and inner most horrible thought they never share with society, it changes him he is raise with the acute pain of knowing just how deeply he is despised. He is just like darkness and hate he sees in others and becomes warped and broken by it.

So he had accepted the glasses his Aunt had thrust upon him, had faithfully worn them not just for her, but for himself. And he continued his childhood seeing less, feeling apart from everyone and everything.

And it was a blessing – a sense of freedom because no-one could hurt him within himself. In his own mind, his own feelings, he was free to do and feel what he wanted. No-one could see them – and no-one could force their own feelings, their hate, fear, pity, towards him and secluded in the darkness he festers.

But there were times when he had reveled in letting that protection go.

Sometimes, he would take off his glasses and he would see that despite whatever arguments or jealousy might come up, Ron was his friend for life – stubborn, but a pure Gryffindor at heart. And in Hermione's eyes he would read her love for books and knowledge, and beyond that a love much greater - for the few people who had made room for themselves in her heart. Luna was a bright spark of contradictory ethereal, infinite knowledge and child-like innocence. And gentle Neville who every fought in his own way, never not supporting his friends, protective and kind. The twins mirror echoes of each other, spirits alight with trickery and joy and cunning. He read trust, faith and warmth, all of it shining so clearly through their souls that, though it was hidden with his glasses on, he could still see. These times he felt blessed, because with his eyes uncovered, he could see the strength of their friendship and knew without a doubt that it was real. It made him feel loved, they made him feel human.

But those moments were rare – especially in times of war, and soon they were gone.

 **Author Note:** So yeah... Hope you like the story i know the format is kinda weird, back and forth chronologically and more than i little confusing. Sorry. Its how i see the story. Anyway enjoy it. If you have comments or questions speak up and review below.

thanks, Madam Death /͡


	5. Chapter 5

Once Harry Potter looked in a mirror that would show him his heart's desire. He saw himself surrounded by his family. People like him that smiled at him with love in their eyes.

But he knew it wasn't, it couldn't be true because he was broken. He was a freak. They told him he was too strange and unnatural, they hated him for so many years. He heard them, feel it with their own souls. And eventually he felt it too, and it shattered some piece inside him, hurt him, more than all those his deaths ever could. Inside him a monster had grown, it filled in the cracks under skin so he still looked whole, but he knew. He would never have a family. He would never have others like them.

Nevertheless, he still looked at the mirror night after night because it was a beautiful lie, after all the pain truths.

oOoOoOoOo

Over the years it had changed from merely invasive soul searching, into shadows and aggressiveness, that while it could be occasionally soothed never really went away. He assumed that some of the others could see it too, something lurking behind thick glass. Some people could glimpse the darken figures lurking there, like unknown predators in deep water. With each death, he learns from the dead and returns with a little more power and a little less humanity.

Theodore Nott sees it first out of the Slytherins. He's pale and shaking as he stumbles into the common room as curfew arrives. He looks wild and scared and terrified. It grabs everyone's attention. They all watch, none knowing what to say as the small thin third year trembles and swallows thickly, eyes darting around. He says nothing and flinches when anyone approaches him. A prefect leads him to his dorm room trying to get him to speak but he presses his lips in a thin line and shakes his head. After that he flinched every time he heard the name Harry James Potter.

Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass notice second, within minutes of the other. They had both noted long ago that Theodore Nott flinched whenever he heard Potter's name. They'd also noticed he made himself scarce at the sight of the boy. They'd also noticed then whenever the other Slytherin's debated in the common room over who would be victorious in the war, Nott never once said he'd ever be against Harry Potter. At first they thought he was neutral, but then they'd seen the fear when anyone mentioned going against the Gryffindor Golden Boy. After that they pieced things together. And soon they were just as wary around the boy as Nott. They weren't quite as terrified, but then again they had always been neutral. Nott had once been against Potter, though now he'd rather kill himself first.

So they watched warily.

Draco, though none know, learned fourth. He learned alone in a back hallway, sitting by himself in the silence. He pushed everything from his mind and just thought. And then he realized. He never made any move to show that he knows. He doesn't act wary or terrified. Instead he acts more arrogant, more headstrong as he teases Harry Potter, over and over again, watching. He watches as all his insults drive the boy into a fake rage and anger. He watches as Potter spits insults back, like a clever mimic. And he notices that not once does a single thing he say actually get the boy's whole attention except when he mentions the Dark Lord. He watches as keen green eyes focus on him and examine him the first moment the words leave his mouth.

None notice when every time he says the words 'Dark Lord' he twitches slightly looking for boring green eyes.

Luna Lovegood never reveals when she knew. She knew of course, the moment she saw him though none know how. She can see it in him. And she's not scared or wary or terrified or arrogant. She's the same. She makes no note that she knows, she just does. She flits around like before, never changing anything she does with Harry. She doesn't watch her back, or her words, or her stance. She goes on like nothing has changed.

And since she's always known nothing has changed. She watches him out of the corner of her eyes, watching it swirl inside of him. She watches it dance around his mind and makes the odd comment just to see how sharp his emerald green eyes turn. She likes what she sees and that's why she doesn't change.

Unbeknownst to most, Hermione and Ron saw it the moment they saw Harry also. Like with Luna they just knew.

Hermione avoided him for the first while. Afraid. She ran until a troll nearly killed her and the thing that scared her saved her. And then she didn't avoid him anymore. She stuck to his side and nagged and listened and watched. She nagged him to do work when he got too distracted with more important things. She listened even as he went off onto nonsense. And she watched as he sat silent and still or hurried off to do something. She ignored his glares and his frowns and his looks. She ignored the small spark of fear that still stirred in her instinctively. She stilled it and continued on with a lecture, noting that green eyes watched her keenly and knowingly. She wouldn't leave him, he wouldn't scare her away, so they became close, and the fear was gone.

Ron didn't avoid him at first. Ron stuck to his side like a burr, never letting him close to others. Despite how thick he was he had seen and he knew. He knew. So he stayed close, never letting the boy out of sight, he was brave and true. He pushed the others away by acting even thicker and loud. He acted rude and became Harry's first defense by keeping everything away. With their extended contact, he learned about the monster watched and he felt compassion. When he helped beat a troll he then backed off and let Hermione in. Hermione, he knew, also knew. She became attached to Harry and started to control. Ron stepped back to let her in, knowing she wouldn't back down and that she would be the order in their new trio.

They both knew. And they both knew the other was aware. And they both knew Harry knew, but let them alone, amused at them.

So instead of flinching or watching or provoking they guarded.

Severus Snape knew within a week of seeing the boy. He knew, knew, knew. And he hated. He hated what he saw in Lily's boy. He hated knowing. James Potter's image was erased from his mind the moment he learned. Then all he could do was scowl and sneer and hate because Lily's little boy was not so normal. He stalked the boy in the halls, protecting the boy's back because he was still Lily's. He sneered and yelled at the child, hoping for some response other than the automatic childish retorts. He watched with black eyes and a sneer already half formed, hiding his horror at Lilly's child.

When Dumbledore said Occlumency lessons Snape begged, actually begged, him to stop that though. Dumbledore held fast and said it had to be done. And Snape feared.

The first lesson was one of pain and suffering. He took one look in the boy's eyes and said he could go. The boy mocked him silently with a slight smile. They both faked lessons for Dumbledore, both knowing the old man didn't know what lurked in those too bright eyes.

But Snape also knew others did know. He knew Weasely and Granger did. He saw their looks and saw their intentions. He was silently thankful there was someone actually guarding them from the boy. He didn't understand that they were guarding Harry from everyone not everyone from Harry.

He also knew that Nott knew. He's seen the flinches and the fright. And he knew Zabini and Greengrass knew. He'd seen the looks of caution and the twitches. And he also knew Draco knew. He knew his godson had known for a long time. In ways it made him proud of his snake's observation skills. In another it made him worry because Potter knew they knew.

He did not know that Lovegood knew.

So Snape watched with glittering black eyes, waiting for an actual reaction.

Remus Lupin figured it when the boy first showed his boggart image. He had known something was wrong since the first full moon, but when the Dementor crawled from the trunk and rasped as he headed for Harry, Remus could see the glint in his eye. At first he'd thought it was nothing, but the more he watched the more he knew. When he finally figured it all out he spent the night drinking himself into a stupor wondering what Lily and James would think of their son. What they would think of him for letting their darling little child turn into this. He woke up with a hangover, took a sobering potion and sought the boy out. He found Harry in a corridor a little ways away from his own quarters. The boy was lounging against a wall and Remus had the eerie feeling Harry knew he was looking for him.

For the longest moment they had stood there. Then Harry had smirked and walked off. Remus just closed his eyes and knew.

He tried to connect with the boy after that but it had never truly worked. When Sirius was proven innocent in his mind Remus backed off knowing Sirius would take up the god-fatherly duties. He'd watched from a distance as Sirius tried to dote on the boy, never noticing the sharp gleam in those eyes. Remus thought it was better that Sirius didn't know. He would treat Harry normally like this. Somewhere he knew Sirius would break if he saw what his godson really was. So, he watched and stayed silent as he kept note from a distance.

Dumbledore learned. He learned, oh he learned. But he learned far too late. He learned as he was falling from a tower to his death. He learned as green eyes watched him with an odd smile of partial amusement and an almost longing. He learned; and how he wished he had known before. He fell, death approaching swiftly. He had expected his death to be for a plan, for this all to be a purpose. He'd expected for Harry to go as he'd predicted.

But when he saw sharp green eyes watch him die he learned and he knew. He no longer can watch but he prays not for Harry, but Voldemort's. Especially after Harry visits him.

Contrary to many thoughts Voldemort understands. He understands and he knows. He knows all about Harry James Potter. The link allowed him glimpses of the boy and he knew. He knew but there was nothing to do about it he knew and it utterly terrified him. It made him oh so wary, it made him act more arrogant, it made him wait, and it made him pray.

He was already dead. Since learning, he was dead. He knew his demise was fast approaching. And he can understand in a way. Understand why he would be dead and why Harry lounges in a chair and swirls wine and ponders. He thinks of all his plans and then destroys them because he's already dead His body just doesn't know it.

Voldemort ponders, and watches, and listens, and guards himself, and waits, and prays, and stays silent, and doesn't change. He prolongs the inevitable.

Author here... So this one is longer. Yeah anyway I love feed back question suggestions comment or concerns leave a review. It inspires me ;)

Thanks, Madam Death /͡


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 3**

"Titus Longbottom, hmm…" Titus almost winced at how slowly the man drawled his name, moulding each word on his tongue before letting it escape. The emotion behind it was bland, unsurprised, and almost bored.

"Why are you bothering me, Titus?"

Titus did wince at the mocking tone he was addressed with.

"We….we wanted you to help us reclaim the world and save wizarding kind from the muggles."

There was a moment of silence before the man gave a short laugh, then another, then another, until he was screaming with laughter. A pale hand was thrown over his eyes as he leaned right back and practically howled with laughter.

"This isn't a laughing matter. Our numbers grown fewer every day."

Harry barred his teeth "So you decided to wake me. The most fearsome of all to scare way the muggles, hmm. So you wish for my aid, after your kind locked me away for centuries"

"They are your kind too." Titus shouts back.

"No" the word ring through the clearing as all sound quiets. "They stopped be my kind long ago."

Harry cut off immediately and looked back at him, peering at him with half lidded eyes, lips pulled back in a teeth-showing grin. "Why do you want me to join you?"

Titus winced once again, wishing Harry would stop mocking him with mere words.

"We thought you would like to join our side of the battle."

"Oh, and why would I ever want to fully enter the battle?" Harry chuckled, the corners of his mouth curled like paper on fire.

"Because you're a target." Titus said bluntly. "The muggles will be coming after you."

Harry gave another snort of laughter. "I don't fear them. They cannot hurt me, no one can hurt me anymore. There is nothing left to hurt. Don't you know the last enemy to be destroyed is Death and well I already have?"

The king on his throne smiled a terrible smile. "Shall I tell you why story, wizardling? When I was young remember thinking how my relatives were the strange ones. As I grew older I learned it was just me. I was alone. Then at eleven the wizards came for me and took me to their world and our world. I thought that I had found somewhere to belong with people who wanted and cherished me. I was wrong of course wizards are similar to me more so then than now but still the resemblance is there. I am not the same was still the odd one out and people still feared and hated me but the wizarding world had giving me friends and family so I was content to pretend to belong."

"My doubts first started when Voldemort killed my godfather. I realized for everything I had put into this war I was getting nothing. Not that one fights a battle between good and evil to gain something, but I wasn't even getting recognition from my own side. I grew up surrounded by hate I thought these people would be different. I was called a liar and an attention seeking psychopath. Everywhere I went the government tried to foil my plans and even my own side wouldn't listen to me. I realized, when Sirius died, that I was fighting a war where I would lose everything. But then suddenly it was proved that Voldemort had come back to life and suddenly I was the hero again."

Harry sneered at nothing, eyes glazed as if lost in memory.

"But that didn't mean I was free to fight, oh no. First I needed to help the government. I needed to be a poster boy. And then no one would listen to me when I said Draco Malfoy was plotting something dangerous. Of course, when that was proved when the Death Eaters attacked, I was suddenly left with a task. I had to hunt down Voldemort's Horocruxs. A sixteen-year-old by was suddenly expected to trapeze around the wilderness to find these forbidden items, which he didn't know the appearance of the whereabouts of. That failed horribly. Because by the time we had tracked down the first two, Voldemort had caught on, gathered up the rest and created another couple and sent them all around the world. So we came back to try and help with the others. That didn't work so well. We were just children, what could we do?" Harry's voice got high and mocking, a frown marring his face. "So they hid us away, because the school was under control of the Death Eaters. That didn't work because they hid us in places that the Death Eaters knew about. Hermione died when Grimmauld place was attacked and Ron died when the Burrow was burnt. I barely escaped."

There was another stretch of silence.

"My two friends, gone." Harry whispered. "All that was left of Ron was ash, but Hermione, they left her body for me to find."

Out of shadow emerge two specters, in muted shining silver. Titus couldn't help but let his eyes flicker over them. Hermione Granger smiled at him, throat slashed and bleeding, one eye socket empty. The rest was hidden under a beautiful stained dress that had in real life had been red. The second figure Ron Weasely grinned at him through burnt flesh, too much of his teeth showing through his ruined face.

"We will never truly leave you Harry" Hermione whispered in the night.

"Yes but that was when I broke. I thought I my best friends were beyond by reach and I knew someone must pay."

oOoOoOo

Then Harry gave in to the whispers. The cold dark crooning's in his ear, promises he had ignored for too long. "So be it," he whispered back. He felt power course through his body like electricity, charging him up in some superhuman way that he could not perceive. His eyes shone like two emerald suns, his hair blew in the wind like darkness looming above the light, and his body was surrounded by a coat of silver shining magical armor, the kind that you often heard about in myths around gods and demigods. That is how someone would describe him: a god amongst mortal.

Voldemort died three days later. His broken soul reunited in the underworld"

"The ministry started bothering me after that. I just wanted to retire with the last of my friends, hidden away in country side somewhere but no." Harry sighed, "It might surprise you to know little wizardling but your ancestor was someone very dear to me. Neville, Luna, Fred and George"

"Left with time, because no one knew where we were and because the wards around old potter mansion still stood and hid me, I started to work. I fixed the place up, rebuilding walls, floors, and room. I snuck into Diagon Alley and took my gold secretly from Gringotts with the help a goblin by the name of Griphook. We were still quite good friends before. He was a great source of knowledge for torture and attacking. Sadistic but knowledgeable. And I needed that knowledge. After I finished rebuilding this place I hired some goblins and curse breakers and such and had the best wards placed on it, making it almost invincible. And then I sought revenge."

Titus released a breath knowing how that had turned out. There still were stories told. Stories told to children to frighten them into behaving, he was the wizarding boogie monster.

But he didn't know the worst of it had been over 200 years and that was a long time. The stories had lost the cold hard edge of truth to them. No long hold real terrier just ghost tales told for fun. The real stories were much worst. Stories of a green eyed devil hitting the Death Eaters like an enraged storm. Certain one had been caught and killed in the most gruesome, painful, of ways, and then their bodies left in front of the Ministry, impaled on spears and pikes. For a brief period of time in the war, the most feared participant had been the one thought of as the Light Side's Hero. Harry Potter had showed the world he was not all light. He had terrified the spit out of everyone and become the Death Eater's worse nightmare because he fought fire with fire, but whereas their fire burned red, his had been hot white and consumed them.

Without using a wand, he muttered several words of power, and a loud roar came sounded, shaking the very earth and filling the air with dread. Lightening flash illuminating a blood stained building the gate torn off their hinges. Pale white shapes lay unmoving on the lawn, ostentatious symbols of wealth. The mansion crumbling in the background. It looked like a natural disaster had pasted through, a wildfire maybe, or a tornado. But no Malfoy manor had fallen to Harry Potter.

* * *

AN: Author here hi, pretty pretty please review only like 3 people have reviewed this far Gaskell20, Skywroe and Foxx. Thank you for reviewing. I really appreciate it it lets me know what you think and inspires me to write more. Also sorry about the grammar, its not my thing and I'm the only one proofreading it, consequently there is bound to be mistakes let me know and I'll fix em.

Thank for reading, Madam Death /͡


	7. Chapter 7

"You know Titus it all would have been fine after that, I could have brokenly lived on after the anger faded. I would kill a Dark Lord like everyone wanted me to, I would mourn and I would have faded away into the back ground. Maybe being someone like Nicolas Flamel I think, who once did amazing things and achieved the seemingly impossible but became nothing more than a footnote in history even as he still lived. I would have been fine secluded away like that, once I learned that I could keep my friends forever." Harry smiled again and it didn't have the knife's edge the others had possessed. He was nostalgic and Titus could almost glimpse humanity in his features. Then his face twisted his inhuman features marking anger with eyes hinting an underlying cold forceful rage.

"But you Wizards didn't want that, did you? The came to me much like you do now, they tried to force me to go along with their foolish greed." Harry laughed bitterly. "You people never change. Remember, all I wanted was to be left alone. It is you who started this..."

"So I finally refused to play along and separated myself from your kind and hoarded my friends to me. All the while the dead murmured in my ears. 'You are strong… you are special… don't allow the to change you... change is for the weak... the strong never change in their strength, their ambition and their ability... they merely change the world around them... Master, come to us... You will make new worlds…' So, I did. However unlike all the other times when I came to them, this time I Called the dead to me. I was growing in power."

"They taught me yes. I'd learned my craft. I know its hidden roads and secrets. All the subtle, sweet, and coaxing ways that made one skilled within the art. So many different ways. Some folk thought they had understood read every book, tried every spell. . . But now I knew much more than that. So much of what I'd thought was truth before was merely tricks. No more than clever ways of speaking to the world. They were a bargaining. A plea. A call. A cry. But underneath, there was a secret deep within the hidden heart of things. They had never told him that. I did not think they knew. I found that secret for myself. I knew the true shape of the world. All else was shadow and the sound of distant drums"

"Then I was a god. I transcended that which mortals knew. The knowledge changed me where as before I was powerful and occasionally vengeful, now I could crush this world and make it anew." He smiled a secretive smile, "Still can. Your life is continuing merely as my whim. So is every life on earth." He sighed.

"I was untouchable yes, but I had one last weakness remaining my friends. You think your people righteous and noble but I know better they took them from me." The darkness surrounding him fluctuated swirling and spiking around the clearing as Harry's agitation grew. "They wanted my power and held my family hostage. They killed them all of them. I felt their souls enter the kingdom of the dead one by one."

 **oOoOoOo**

They take away his last bit of joy. His dogfather long gone. He is left with no more smiling Weasleys, no more brilliant Shakespearian queens, no more brave Gryffindors, no more whimsical moons. And so, with one more day and one last death, there is no more piece left to be broken, there is no humanity left to take and there is nothing stopping him from becoming the Destroyer of Worlds. No more best friends and loving smiles. Just Death remains.

And that was when Harry gave in to the whispers. The cold dark crooning's of the dead in his ear, promises he had ignored for too long. "So be it," he whispered back. Harry Potter's world just end so the twisted husk that remains decides to end everyone else's. He felt power course through his body like electricity, charging him up in some superhuman way that he could not perceive. His eyes shone like two emerald suns, his hair blew in the wind like darkness looming above the light, and his body was surrounded by a cloak of liquid silver and a blackened aura.

So, the Death God rules and there's no big apocalypse. Just an endless procession of little ones.

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AN: Hi I have for you another chapter. Hope you like it.

Special thanks to Elpisastreaeosdikelungbarrow for reviewing each chapter individually I really enjoyed your reviews. I'm so glad you like it.

Skywroe thank you also, I happy you find my story intriguing.

Please review I like hearing what you people like and dislike.


	8. Chapter 8

"I almost ended humanity, not just wizard and magical but everyone. Muggle too. I guess it is my fault they are hunting you now, after all they didn't know you existed until my rampage." Harry chuckled, the corners of his mouth curling in amusement. "But something happened, a betrayal so sudden not even I could see its planning their eyes. Luna isn't dead she is working with them, at least in appearance. I had known there were complication with her death because her spirit would not come to me but I still thought her dead. Yet she appeared before me in battle, she used her ability to See against me. She trapped me on me throne, wrapping me in chain and spell. Once I was restrained they explained to me that they had intended to kill her but discovered her abilities and greedily sought to use them. So, they fed her potions and broke into her mind until she saw in me the devil. The Luna I knew was dead but her defiled corpse was their puppet."

"They cursed me for my powers then hypocritically used similar power to restrain me, but still they could not end me, they merely trapped me in my dreams, unable to live and unable to die. Best thing to do if you can't destroy it, lock it up and throw away the key." The mockery of a smile was back on his lips, "but they didn't throw away the key, did they? My sweet moon, broken as she was, tricked you into freeing me with a false prophecy. So here we are."

He turned and sat back down on his throne with his family of specters surrounding him and the monsters of the forest at his back. "You're lucky I have good dreams these past long years, my rage has faded with time now am apathic. Nothing really stirs me anymore. Well then I think I would like to watch as the world tears itself to pieces, then maybe I'll remake it and watch again. That might be entertaining.

 **oOoOoOo**

A hundred years pass and society none existent.

Two hundred years and the earth is covered in a haze of deadly radiation and chemicals.

Five hundred and earth is slowly recovering outside of Harry's forest. He decides to help it along he takes the souls of the dead and place them in new forms, creates new empires and age.

After a couple millennia, he prods civilization once more, and watches as global wars break out.

Harry likes to smirk when he thinks of it. His smirk quickly turns to a full-blown grin that shows far too many teeth. It's been to long for him to feel and real happiness.

And then he likes to laugh when he thinks of all the people fighting and struggling to live. He likes to laugh, laugh, laugh. It's almost like feeling delight again.

So he laughs and laughs and laughs knowing that he is the god of this universe. He likes how dangerous, how sharp he is. He likes to think of himself as all jagged edges and quick wit. He likes to think of himself as terrifying and powerful.

But he doesn't need to just think it. He is powerful and smart and terrifying. He knows this because he can always feel the power bubbling out of him, almost too much for his body to hold. He can feel his mind running through hundreds of thoughts, working things out in a flash. And he knows he's terrifying.

He knows he's all this and more. He tries to forget how he became this way. That the jagged edges are because he is broken, that the power he welds so effortlessly is from his many deaths, that fear the others feel is because he not normal, not Just Harry…

He calls himself a god, and tries to ignore that he is just an abnormality, a freak just like they told him all those years ago.

The ghosts of his family fade after a hundred millennia and he is alone again. Forever is too long to live and too long to remember, he becomes too old. When finally this universe ends and the void swallows all, the being that was once Harry Potter welcomes it.

THE END

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Alrighty then so this is it. Hope you liked it, I know its pretty rough around the edges and there are loose strings, but thats all I had for the plot.

I might revamp it in the future, probably. So then bye.


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